


In Which Preparations Are Made, and A Social Event Is Attended

by aceactress



Series: Sammy's Fallen London Stories [2]
Category: Fallen London | Echo Bazaar
Genre: Gen, after almost a year since i made this account i make my triumphant return, and post my third entire story, i can't think of a summary, i'll probably work through my... archives i guess, since i have a bunch of stories i just never did anything with
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 07:48:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11778624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceactress/pseuds/aceactress
Summary: It can be daunting to go to a formal social event, especially when you have a dilemma that you certainly aren't blowing out of proportion, or you're anxiously but excitedly awaiting a reunion after a separation that's been much too long, or you happen to see someone you dislike and simply have no other choice but to engage in a battle of wits. As you do.





	In Which Preparations Are Made, and A Social Event Is Attended

“Don't be so dramatic.”

Wilhelmina doesn't look up from her book – she doesn't have to.

“I don't know _what_ you're talking about,” Hester says from where she's reclining on a sofa, the back of one hand pressed delicately to her forehead while the other waves a fan near her face. She sighs a long, drawn-out sigh and flutters her eyelashes. Wilhelmina rolls her eyes.

“You're behaving like a child, you know.”

“Why, no, Mina, I don't. I mean, goodness, the ball is tonight and I've a ghastly stain on my nicest dress! It's simply a disaster.”

“Ah, yes. I'd forgotten that you're Hester Wakefield, the woman who owns one and only one gown. The woman who certainly doesn't have a closet full of other perfectly good dresses. How dreadful of me.”

“You take the fun out of everything, do you know that? Everything.” Hester sits up a bit straighter and pushes a ginger curl behind her ear. “Besides, I promised George I'd wear it tonight.”

“I thought you were seeing Henry.”

“No, George. I'm sure I told you. I haven't seen Henry in ages.”

“Of course.” Wilhelmina turns a page and doesn't say anything else.

“I just _don't_ know what I'm going to do.”

“Mmn.”

Hester frowns as her sister turns another page. “Only _three hours_ to prepare,” she says, raising her voice.

“I see.”

“And,” she says, sitting up properly and snapping the fan shut in her hand, “I think Father's been replaced with an extremely convincing Rubbery Man doppelganger.”

“That's fascinating.”

“Wilhelmina Martha Wakefield, you're _ignoring_ me!”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. I am.”

“Here I am, laying all of my woes and troubles out in the open and my _own sister_ won't even have the decency to _listen!_ ” Hester sighs dramatically once more, and sighs again, louder, when Wilhelmina still refuses to look up from her book.

“If you want sympathy, go bother Geneva.”

“Maybe I will!”

In a whirl of crimson skirts, Hester rises from her seat and leaves the room with as much indignation she can possibly muster.

She marches up the steps to the upstairs parlour where Geneva's been painting and, once inside, seats herself in an armchair. Geneva looks up from her canvas and smiles before she goes back to work. On the canvas, Hester can see a vase sketched out, along with the beginnings of a fungal arrangement. Sitting opposite Geneva, on an end table, is the very vase Hester supposes her sister must be painting.

“Are you prepared for the ball tonight?”

“I think so. I just want to finish the sketch today. Is the stain going to come out of your dress?”

“No. And I was so hoping to wear it... George will be _dreadfully_ disappointed.”

“Well, I-- Not Henry?”

“No, George. Didn't I tell you?”

“Oh, I'm sure you did. Well, I imagine that George would rather you go wearing something else rather than not go at all.”

“Yes, I suppose so.” Hester lets out one last sigh for good measure then sits up straight and smiles, her previous melancholy forgotten. “Well, that's settled then. Will Elsie be there?”

Geneva brightens up at the mention of her fiancée, pausing her work a moment. “Oh, yes! She's actually in London for one of these events for once. She seems a bit-- apprehensive, I suppose? But I'm sure she'll have a good time. She's meeting me there.”

She takes a step back from the canvas and surveys the sketch, comparing it to the vase. It doesn't need to be perfect, of course, she knows that, but she still wants to make sure everything is in the right place.

“Does it look right to you?” she asks Hester.

“Yes, it looks fine.”

“Alright.” Geneva nods, plucking her green-tinted spectacles from the top of her head and putting them on her face.

“Why don't you wear those while you're painting?”

“The glasses? They make everything look green. I can't get the colours right with them on.”

“Really?”

“Yes. It's like looking through a bottle.”

“Really! Let me see.”

Geneva removes the glasses and hands them to Hester, then goes about collecting paintbrushes and pots of pigment, capping them as necessary and setting them aside to be cleaned and put away. Hester puts on the spectacles and finds that Geneva's right – the room has gone sort of a green-ish colour all over.

“Well, that is something to behold! This is how you see the world, is it?”

Geneva nods, laughing softly. “It certainly is.”

“Why do you do it?”

“Honestly, I just like how they look.”

“Well, I'm sure they look better on you than on me. Here.” Hester takes of the glasses and holds them out to Geneva, who takes them and puts them back on.

“Thank you.” Geneva finishes clearing away her art supplies and sits down in the chair opposite Hester. “Do you know if anyone else will be there? Anyone we know, that is.”

“Well...” Hester pauses a moment in though. “I doubt anything short of dying would stop Vance Eldritch from being there. Lord and Lady Chattaway will probably attend... I think Rose Wickes might show up. I'm not sure.”

“Oh, it'd be nice to see her. Do you think Miss Sly will go?”

“I doubt it. Do you think _Mina_ will go?”

“She won't want to. But I expect Mother will make her.”

“Oh, yes. She'll probably _insist._ ”

“Not even Wilhelmina can argue with Mother when she insists.”

The two of them snicker in as ladylike a fashion as it’s possible to snicker.

“Well,” Geneva declares, “I shall enjoy myself, even if she won’t.”

“I agree. How long until the ball?”

Geneva looks to the clock. “Just under three hours. We should start to get ready soon.”

Hester nods. “Well, what are we waiting for?”


End file.
